


Bathroom Runner

by TheNewJefferson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oliver Holmes - Freeform, Romulans?, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly child, bath time for Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNewJefferson/pseuds/TheNewJefferson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Holmes doesn't want to take a bath, but what do Romulans have to do with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathroom Runner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benedictedcumberbatched](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbatched/gifts).



> Happy Happy Birthday Ashleigh!!!
> 
> Many thanks to Channy and Misty for reading over this for me and helping me when I got stuck
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own a thing

Molly rubbed the back of her neck as she trudged up the steps of Baker Street. She’d had a terrible day, between all of the autopsies and paperwork that went with them. She hadn't had a break all day. She was so looking forward to a cup of tea and curling up on the couch with her boys.

When she reached the top, she narrowed her eyes as she opened the door. The flat was too quiet. As soon as she opened her mouth to call out for Sherlock, she was met with a squeal coming from the hallway. She turned her head towards the commotion, and was greeted with the sight of her three year old son running into the main area of the flat, without a stitch of clothing on his little body, dripping water everywhere.

“Oliver, what on Earth-,” Molly started.

“Oliver Holmes, get back here this instant!” Sherlock bellowed as he stormed down the hall after the young boy. His normally crisp shirt was soaked and his curls which were usually under control, were sticking out every which way.

Oliver ran and hid behind his mother’s legs. “Mummy help, Papa’s being mean to me.”

Sherlock stalked over to the pair, “Your mother isn’t going to help you. Hello, Molly. Nice day at work?” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, reached behind her and grabbed Oliver’s arm. “I’m not being mean, I am simply trying to rid you of the smell that has decided to attach itself to your skin.” Once he had the boy in front of him, he kneeled down in front of him. In the meantime, Molly began to shed her outerwear.

“You do understand that this would go a lot faster if you would just behave and not throw a fit every time you have to take a bath,” Sherlock said, wrapping a towel around the child. “It’s also rude to run around the flat naked.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Molly snorted, hanging up her jacket.

“I wear a sheet, there’s a difference,” Sherlock said standing up, situating Oliver on his hip.

“I want Mummy to give me a bath,” Oliver grumbled.

“Mummy just got home from work, she needs a bit of down time before she has to deal the whirlwind that is you.” Sherlock told him, grabbing at Oliver’s tongue which he stuck out in response to his father’s comment.

“No, it’s fine Sherlock.” Molly sighed reached out for her son. “You can clean up all of this water though,” she called over her shoulder.

He watched her walk down the hall and disappear into the bathroom with Oliver. There was something bothering her. Whenever she came home from work, she was always happy to see them, halfway through a bath or not. She’d always be sure to sit with Oliver and let him tell her all about his day. She would show excitement for every little thing. Today was different though. As he leaned down to clean up the water left behind by hurricane Oliver, he tried to figure it out.

* * *

Once Oliver had been properly bathed, he didn’t put up as much of a fight with his mother, and after getting clothed head to toe accordingly, Molly got started on supper. Sherlock tried to keep the boy entertained, but even he knew that there was something wrong with his mother.

“Papa?” Oliver said, walking up and leaning on Sherlock’s leg.

“Yes?” Sherlock said as he ruffled his light brown hair.

“Is Mummy ok?”

Sherlock smirked at his son as he lifted him up and sat him on his lap. He was as attuned into people's emotions as his mother. Oliver was just like his mother actually, though there was a bit of Sherlock in him. As he looked at the boy, Sherlock tried to figure out what to tell him.

"I suppose she is tired. You know Mummy has a very important job."

"And she's the best at what she does!" Oliver exclaimed, rocking back and forth on Sherlock's lap.

"Yes, she is," Sherlock chuckled, "and because of that, she often has a lot of work thrown at her, and sometimes all of that work happens on one day."

"You could've just said Mummy had a busy day, Papa," Oliver said seriously.

Sherlock leaned back, "I suppose I could've, but I could also do this!"

He started tickling the little boy who giggled and squealed. It wasn't long ago that the little boy found out his father was quite ticklish if you got him in the right spot, a fact he wasn't about to forget. Ever since then he had tried many times to tickle his father, but had been outsmarted every time thus far, so he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away. So, when Sherlock stopped to let him catch his breath, Oliver reached out and started tickling him. The noise that came out of Sherlock's mouth was nearly inhuman. He quickly grabbed his son and slung him over his shoulder as he chuckled.

"Molly, are you almost ready for us because this little menace has committed the ultimate crime." Sherlock said walking towards the kitchen.

Molly turned and giggled when she saw the pair of them walk in. "Just finished. Oliver, did you tickle your father?"

"He tickled me first, Mummy!" Oliver yelled over his father's shoulder.

"Sorry Sherlock, sounds like you were fair game."

"You would take his side," Sherlock said, finally setting Oliver down.

"That what Mum's are for, dear," Molly said, leaning down and hugging Oliver.

"Are you ok Mummy," Oliver asked, leaning back to look at his mother.

"Of course I'm ok darling! I just had a long day at work, that's all.”

“You promise,” he said solemnly.

“I promise,” she said, looking him in the eye, “Now, let’s eat! I’m starving!”

* * *

 

After putting Oliver to bed, Molly was finally able to curl up on the couch with her cup of tea. She was leaning against Sherlock who was flipping through channels on the telly, finally stopping on some cooking show. He took her tea from her and set it on the table in front of them, then placed his arm around her.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened at work. I know you were trying to hide it, but you were doing a rubbish job of it.”

Molly sighed and hid her face in his chest. “It was just a long day. I never thought that it was going to end. Body after body came in. I was already behind on paperwork from when Oli was sick last week, and now there’s even more. I didn’t have a break all day. It’s been like this for four days and I don’t know when it’s going let up. Then I come home and Oliver is running around, fighting a bath.”

“Sounds like you need a nice relaxing bath,” Sherlock murmured in her ear.

She smirked and looked up at him. “That would be lovely, but then you’d want to join me which would defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”

“You say that as if I would try something,” Sherlock said with mock seriousness.

“Oh, I know you would.” Molly giggled, reaching her hand up to cup his neck. He lowered his head and she met him for a kiss. It didn’t take him long to deepen the kiss and pull her into his lap, while she wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. She tugged lightly and Sherlock grunted in response.

“Papa, Mummy I had a bad dream,” Oliver said, his lips quivering.

Both gasped, and Sherlock all but threw Molly off of him. They looked towards their son, hair ruffled by sleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Come here, son.” Sherlock said, leaning forward and holding out his arms which was all it took for the little boy to shuffle over into his father’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and nestled closer to him as he leaned back against the couch. Molly reached across and smoothed his hair.

“What was your nightmare about, Darling?” Molly asked.

“I was taking a bath and the Romulans showed up.” Oliver said around the thumb he had shoved into his mouth.

“Did you not have your phaser with you?” Sherlock asked, gently pulling Oliver’s thumb out of his mouth.

“Yes, but it wouldn’t work. They tried to pull me down the drain, Papa!” he shouted.

Oliver buried his head in Sherlock’s shoulder and cried his little heart out. Sherlock started rocking him back and forth, rubbing his back and quietly shushing him.

“Oli, do you have this dream often?” Molly asked once he had calmed down. He nodded his head. “Baby, is that why you don’t like taking baths, because you’re scared the Romulans will come after you?” He nodded again.

Molly reached for him and settled him down in front of her. She rested her head on Sherlock’s leg while Oliver claimed her arm for a pillow. With his mother rubbing his back, it didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep.

“Where on earth did he come up with the idea that Romulans were going to pull him down the drain?” Molly kissed Oliver’s forehead after he turned and faced her.

“I’ve no clue. Even I wasn’t that creative as a child,” Sherlock said, looking down at the boy.

“Maybe we shouldn’t let him watch Star Trek,” Molly worried.

“It would probably be worse if we tried to take it away from him at this point. He’ll get over it soon enough.”

“Now, we just have to convince him that Romulan’s aren’t after him,” Molly sighed.

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow. He seems pretty happy now.” Sherlock looked at his son’s face peeking out from his mother’s shoulder and saw a small smile on his face. “Maybe he’s the captain in this dream.”

He looked towards Molly and saw that she too had fallen asleep. Seeing as he couldn’t really go anywhere, he watched the most important people in his life sleep, thinking on how different his life would be without them. He finally gave into temptation and rested his head on the back of the couch and let sleep claim him as well.


End file.
